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The Beach, a Boat, and a Bottle of Rum

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Eleanor peered morosely into the cup in her hand, watching as the liquid sloshed back and forth with the movement of her hand. She was drinking doubles from a tall glass and was on her fourth of the night.  She’d slowed down, she was disappointed to note, her body had demanded it, but she had no intention of stopping completely.  She’d had the worst fucking day and she planned on drinking until she forgot about her problems or until she passed out, whichever came first. 

Raising her glass to her lips, Eleanor tossed the rest of the amber liquid back and then poured herself around round, her mind once again turning to her fucking father and the endless stream of fucking lies that flowed from his fucking mouth. Richard Guthrie was, had been, and always would be an unreliable fucking fuck.  Eleanor knew this, and yet she still wanted to believe, she still let herself believe him every goddamn time.  It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic.  She disgusted herself.  She was no better than the ridiculous beardless boys who believed Noonan’s whores when they told them that they had never seen bigger or had better.  She was…  

“You keep glaring at that drink so hard and the Royal Navy will think you have forsaken her for another.” 

The space beside Eleanor filled with colour as Max’s musical voice drifted towards her ears, and despite her terrible mood, Eleanor felt her lips begin to curve into a smile as Max settled on the stool beside her. 

“Oh, the British have nothing to fear,” Eleanor breathed out, swiveling around on her stool so that she was facing Max. “I’ve got a big heart,” she grinned.  “There’s more than enough space to loathe two things at once.  Depending on the size of Flint’s shipment when he deigns to grace our shores again, there might even be room for a third.” 

“Always looking at the glass as half full, you,” Max replied softly, her voice equal parts sarcastic and chiding as she glanced over at Eleanor.  “You are too serious,” Max continued a few moments later, reaching over to place her hand on Eleanor’s tense back.  “You need more fun and less drink,” she continued, drawing one hand soothingly down Eleanor’s back while she reached out with the other and removed the cup that had been entrenched in Eleanor’s hand for the past hour. 

“Fun?” Eleanor’s asked, her lovely features contorting confusedly, as if she had never heard the word before in her life. 

“It is possible,” Max breathed out, averting her eyes from Eleanor only when the blonde’s adorably petulant scowl threatened to draw a smile to her lips.  

Normally Max did not try to hide her fondness for Eleanor from the woman, but she knew that it did no one - especially Eleanor - any good to indulge the blonde’s black moods.  It was hard for Max to remain firm with her however, because for some reason Max found Eleanor particularly fetching when the woman was being a brat. It filled her heart with affection and made her imagine things that she had no business imagining, like what Eleanor would look like first thing in the morning, her hair cutely tussled from sleep as she sulkily squinted into the morning light.  To smile at Eleanor’s antics was no good to her or to Eleanor, yet Max smiled because her brain could not make her heart feel reason. 

A sheepish look was in Eleanor’s eyes when she turned to face Max. She knew that she was behaving badly.  Most of the time she didn’t give a fuck about whether or not the people around her found her polite and ladylike, but Max was different. Max was not the riff-raff that pestered her day in and out. Max was her friend; she was a tranquil oasis in a stormy sea. Since arriving on the shores of Nassau, Max had shown Eleanor nothing but kindness and brought her nothing but joy. If ninety-nine percent of the island didn’t like what she had to say, or how she said it, they could all go fuck themselves as far as Eleanor was concerned, but for Max, with Max, she was determined to try and be better. 

“I’ve heard stories of this ‘fun’ you speak of,” Eleanor murmured, looking more than a little abashed as she met Max’s eyes.  “It sounds pleasant,” she continued, smiling cutely in an attempt to charm her way back into Max’s good graces. 

“I think, perhaps, we could use a stronger phrase than that.” 

“Fucking pleasant?” Eleanor suggested brightly, and at that Max couldn’t stop herself from chuckling softly as she gazed over at the blonde.  

“We go,” Max declared when she had calmed again.  


“Someplace fun, ma cherie,” Max replied, her words gently teasing.  

Noonan was not about that she could see, nor was his hag of a wife. This presented her with a rare opportunity to escape the confines of the brothel for a few hours that night. It would cost her some money, but she’d had a profitable afternoon and she knew that it would cover what she lost by sneaking off with Eleanor. 

“Follow Max,” the brunette continued as she slid off of the stool she had been seated.  “She will not disappoint,” she added softly, reaching out to take Eleanor’s hand into her own. 

“I thought I needed more fun and less drink,” Eleanor commented wryly when Max reached towards the bar with her free hand and grabbed the bottle of rum Eleanor had been filling her glass from. 

“We do both,” Max said, and Eleanor had just enough time to grin over at her before Max tugged at her hand and began to lead her away. 


They ended up on the beach, in a boat, with the bottle of rum, which they passed back and forth as waves brushed against the frame, rocking the boat gently.  

They were seated on a blanket that covered the row boats bottom boards between the thwart and the stern sheets.  Eleanor’s back pressed up against the right frame while Max was propped up against the left, their sand-speckled feet laying by each other’s hips.  

Eleanor’s head was tilted back, facing the sky so that she could enjoy the twinkling of the stars as the cool ocean breeze caressed her cheeks. She hadn’t thought it possible when she’d entered the brothel that night, but she felt better, she felt content. 

Rum sat warm and comforting in her stomach, providing an easy rationalization for her improved mood, but in the soft, vulnerable part of herself that she generally tried to pretend didn’t exist, Eleanor knew that the alcohol in her system was not the true cause of her lifted spirits. After all, while still seated at the brothel’s bar her stomach had been full of rum, yet she couldn’t have been more incensed. 

No, as Eleanor’s eyes slid shut and her mind was filled with the pleasant tune Max had started to hum, the blonde knew that it was Max who had soothed her seething heart. On that boat, awash with an uncommon feeling of peace, Eleanor was able to acknowledge that it was the possibility of seeing Max that had lured her to the brothel’s bar so often in recent times.  The cheap booze and cacophony of thought muffling sound the place provided had enticed her on occasion in the past, but it was Max’s presence that had turned her into a regular patron. 

The significance of the thought forced Eleanor’s eyes open and her head forward.  Her mind had been drifting, her thoughts scattered and unfocused as the boat swayed softly. She had not expected anything of import to cross her mind, but in her state of tranquility she had stumbled across a truth, which now known, could not be obscured again. 

As Eleanor had been lulled into a peaceful haze by the breeze, the rum, and the rocking of the boat, so had Max but while Eleanor gazed up at the stars, Max had taken up contemplation of the blonde.  Softly humming some tune that she could not remember the name of, but whose melody always came to her when she was feeling content, Max had let her mind wander, giving herself leave to indulge in thoughts that she would have denied herself had she been more sober and in a less picturesque setting.  

As it was, she lost herself in contemplation of Eleanor’s face, and hair and skin, imagining how the golden strands would feel between her fingers, or if Eleanor’s lips could possibly be as soft or taste as sweet as they looked.  At times her eyes had dropped to Eleanor’s chest as it rhythmically rose and fell and she had contemplated what it would be like to draw her mouth over soft swell of Eleanor’s breast before taking a hard, pink nipple into her mouth. 

Relaxed as she had been, Eleanor’s swift change in position caught Max unaware, and before she could look away from the blonde, before she could hide her yearnful expression, Eleanor’s stormy eyes focused on her, and Max realized she had been caught. 

Eleanor’s lips parted to speak. 

Max looked away.  

It wasn’t denial that made her do so however, she knew it was far too late to hide what had been on her face, she simply wished to spare herself the disgusted look she feared would come onto Eleanor’s face when the woman fully processed just what the look in Max’s eyes had meant.  


Eleanor’s voice was soft, it was tender, and some of the fear twisting Max’s stomach receded at the sound of her voice, but still Max did not look up.  Because while it did not seem as if Eleanor was going to denounce her, Max could not contemplate a scenario in which her feelings for the blonde were returned, which meant she was still waiting upon rejection, just one of a gentler nature. 

In the silence that followed Eleanor’s attempt to talk, waves continued to break against the side of the row boat, and the quiet between them grew uncomfortable.  

“Max,” Eleanor tried again. 

Max continued to avoid her gaze. 

Accepting that verbal pleas were going to continue being ignored, Eleanor decided it was time to switch tactics and used her foot to nudge Max’s thigh.  

Max ignored this silent request as well. 

Uncertain how to proceed, Eleanor’s eyes dropped to contemplate her sand spotted toes and in doing so an idea came to her.  She paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not her idea was a good one, but restraint was not foremost among her list of virtues, so she decided to proceed.  

Watching Max keenly, Eleanor lifted her foot off of the bottom boards and began to move it towards Max’s face. She saw Max’s eyes cut towards her leg when it started to move, but the brunette still refused to look at her so Eleanor kept going, and continued going until Max released an irritated huff and pushed Eleanor’s foot away from her. 

“Don’t,” Max warned, pointing her finger at Eleanor. 

“Sorry,” Eleanor responded, though the small smile tugging up the corners of her lips made it hard to believe her. 

“You look it,” Max replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Eleanor’s smile widened and Max huffed again in annoyance before knocking her foot against Eleanor’s side. 

“You were looking at me,” Eleanor began softly a short while later. 

“I have eyes.  They have to land somewhere,” Max breathed out dismissively though she was once again refusing to meet Eleanor’s eyes. 

“Myself, that broken oar, the lonely sock draped over that rock, all interchangeable resting spots for your eyes, no one preferable to the others?” Eleanor questioned. 

“Essentially,” Max replied lightly as she continued to stare out at the water. 

“That’s really fucking mean,” Eleanor responded, her words crafted to convey offence though her lips twitched repeatedly with the effort of suppressing a smile. 

“Cry about it into your bottle of rum,” Max breathed out, waving her hand dismissively. 

“It’s empty,” Eleanor reminded her. 

"C'est dommage,” Max murmured and at that, Eleanor gave into the urge she had been fighting and laughed.  

Her amusement did not make her forget how they had arrived on this topic however, and when her laughter faded, her face became serious once again as she spoke to Max. 

“Look at me?” Eleanor requested gently.  “Please?  Max?  Max?” she said, a more pleading note entering her voice when she said the brunette’s name for the second time. 

When Max remained unresponsive, Eleanor began to lift her foot again, but Max was prepared for the move this time and firmly caught Eleanor’s ankle and pressed her foot back down.  Then, for good measure, Max reached out and slapped Eleanor’s leg before pointing at her and saying, “You stop it.” 

“I’ll stop when you stop,” Eleanor replied huffily, and Max cursed herself internally as her heart began to beat a little quicker in the wake of Eleanor’s childishness display. 

Max settled against the frame of the boat again and then lifted her head. 

“Go on, then,” Max said, nodding her head towards Eleanor, her voice and gaze firm now that she had decided to walk the plank and listen to what Eleanor had to say.  “Speak, Max is listening.” 

Eleanor was silent and still for moment, watching Max watch her, looking almost defiant with her pursed lips and unblinking stare, daring Eleanor to give her worst, as if Max hadn’t seen everything already, as if Max could be hurt by a prissy little British girl playing in the sand.  

Eleanor had never seen anything so beautiful.  She had never wanted Max more, and since meeting the brunette she had wanted Max plenty. 

“That’s the thing though,” Eleanor began, a delicious rasp undercutting her words as her eyes roved over Max’s face.  “Speaking isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she continued, her eyes never leaving Max’s as she slid across the narrow row boat and then gracefully seated herself beside Max. 

“No?” Max asked, tilting her head up to look into Eleanor’s shining eyes. 

“No,” Eleanor breathed out, her eyes searching Max’s face, seeking signs to confirm that she was reading Max correctly; that what she was going to do next would be well-received.  

When Max’s pupils dilated and her body heaved as she drew in a deep breath, Eleanor had the confirmation she needed. 

“Words are such slippery things,” Eleanor began.  “I had thought to embrace a medium less prone to misunderstanding,” she continued, bringing her hand up to Max’s face and then tenderly brushing her fingers over her cheek. 

Max’s eyes closed in pleasure at the feel of Eleanor’s fingers on her cheek, and as the cool digits trailed over her soft flesh, Max breathed in sharply, desire pooling between her legs. 

“Max?” Eleanor whispered.  

Max opened her eyes, and the desire Eleanor saw in them robbed her of breath and flushed her entire body with heat.  

The beating of her heart increased, doubled, tripled.  

Her head swam.  

She had never seen anything that came close to comparing to the sight of Max in the moonlight, desire painting her face more alluringly than the finest French cosmetics could ever hope to.  

Eleanor’s thoughts - if the pulsing throbbing waves of want that coursed through her body drowning out everything but the beating of her heart - could be called thoughts, were scattered.  Max was too beautiful. It was almost painful to look at her.  As the sun punished those who could not look away from it with blindness, gazing at Max sometimes felt a bit like dying - exhilarating, terrifying and utterly consuming.  Gazing at her then, Eleanor found herself full of need to the point where she was temporarily paralyzed by it; longing to kiss Max with every piece of her being, yet unable to move. 

Max freed Eleanor from the cage of her desire when she closed the scant distance between them and brought her lips to the blonde’s. 

The gentle press of warm, full lips against her own spurred Eleanor into motion and she lifted her other hand to Max’s face, taking hold of the brunette securely before arching into Max, returning her kiss and then deepening it. 

Reaching up, Max covered Eleanor’s hand where it held her face, and then drew their joined hands down, placing Eleanor’s over her breast.  

Eleanor released a shaky breath at the feel of Max in her hand, and then she sighed roughly and nipped at the underside of Max’s jaw before bringing her lips back to Max’s, kissing her ardently as her hand began to massage Max’s breast. 

Max’s head began to cloud and instinct took over. She flung her leg over Eleanor’s and straddled her. Eleanor’s hands moved to her legs, grasping impatiently at her skirt, battling against the material as she desperately searched for a way under.  She found it eventually, and when she did, and her hands trailed up Max’s bare thighs for the first time, a moan tore its way free of Max’s throat and then it was her turn to guide Eleanor’s face, tilting it up so that she could ravish her mouth as Eleanor’s hands crept higher and higher... 

...and then Max’s hand was on Eleanor’s wrist, grasping it firmly, holding Eleanor’s hand where it lay an inch away from Max’s aching center. 

Eleanor blinked rapidly, her chest rising and falling quickly as she stared up at Max, confused as to why Max had suddenly grabbed her hand, but understanding and respecting the restraining nature of the hold. 

“Not here,” Max breathed out, stroking her thumb across Eleanor’s cheek.  

It had been a long while since she had last lain with another out of genuine desire, and it had been even longer since she had lain with someone who made her heart ache the way Eleanor did. She had been waiting so long for this feeling to swell in her again that she had almost despaired it never would, and then she met Eleanor.  She had dreamed of this, and she did not want their first time to be a quick fuck on the floor of a row boat, exposed to the night sky and anybody who happened to pass by.  

“Please,” she whispered, the word so faint that it could have been lost to the wind if Eleanor hadn’t been focused on savouring every syllable that fell from Max’s lips.  

“Yes, of course,” Eleanor replied, reaching for the hand Max had resting on her waist and taking it into her own.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t … I didn’t mean to be so … ravenous,” she continued, flushing as the last word fell from her lips, wishing that she had been able to find a more poetic way to characterize the hunger Max had stirred in her.  “Please don’t think that all I desire is …” 

“Ssh,” Max said soothingly, her lips curving up sweetly before she leaned forward and brushed her lips gently against Eleanor’s.  “Max likes you ravenous,” she breathed out, her smile widening when Eleanor blushed yet smiled, pleased by Max’s words.  “Max would also like you naked, in a bed.” 

“I…” Eleanor began, trailing off momentarily as thoughts of being naked in a bed with Max overcame her, “concur,” she finished what she thought was only a moment later. However, from the laugh that escaped Max’s lips and the way her eyes crinkled at the sides, Eleanor realized that that there must have been an overlong pause between her words. 

“Come, you,” Max said, shifting off of Eleanor’s lap.  “It’s time for bed,” she whispered wickedly, grinning widely a moment later when Eleanor hastily made to stand. 


They walked back to town hand in hand, alternating between smiling to themselves and smiling at each other.  

When they reached what passed for civilization in Nassau, their hands fell away from each other, but stayed close together as they made their way towards the brothel. 

They separated when they entered the crowded building, Max cutting towards the left and Eleanor veering towards the right, weaving their way through the dirty, sweaty, noisy throng of people in parallel, heading towards the same place. 

They converged at the base of the stairs that led up to bedrooms.  Max placed her hand on the banister took and couple steps up, then turned and held out her hand to Eleanor, inviting her to join her. 

Eleanor placed her hand in Max’s, accepting the invitation. 

Max smiled at her gently, and Eleanor’s lips turned up in response, smiling back at Max just as warmly. 

“I don’t know where ya think yer off to after disappearin’ for ‘alf o’ the fuckin’ night, but if you know what’s good fer ya, you’ll get yer ass over ‘ere right fuckin’ now and …” 

Noonan’s aggravated hollering stopped when he caught sight of who was standing at the bottom of the bannister, holding Max’s hand. 

“Miss Guthrie,” he greeted, forcing a smile onto his face as he made eye contact with the blonde.   

Just his fucking luck.  

Eleanor had a soft spot for the whores and she took badly to him giving them proper correction.  He wasn’t doing anything out of his bounds by giving Max or any of the others a piece of his mind, but when she was riled up Eleanor was a big enough pain in his arse that he tried not to educate his whores in her presence.  The truth was, he went to trouble to avoid rousing her ire, and now the bitch had gone and snuck up on him, leaving him open to one of her hysterical lectures about ‘respect’ and ‘compassion’ and how ‘whores were people’ too. 

“Mister Noonan,” Eleanor pronounced archly, looking down her nose at him. 

“Beggin’ yer pardon,” Noonan said, tipping his hat to Eleanor as he approached the women.  “I hate ter use such language in front of a lady, but…” 

“But nothing,” Eleanor interjected before he could continue.  “It’s utterly unacceptable to hurl that kind of abusive at anyone.” 

“You would know, Miss Guthrie,” Noonan replied jeeringly, having heard Eleanor hurl profanity ridden insults on numerous occasions. 

Eleanor huffed at Noonan’s reply and looked away from him for a long moment before she deigned to rest her eyes upon him again. 

“Was there a point to all that bother, or can we get back to our evening?” Eleanor asked, looking at Noonan imperiously once more. 

“Oh, well, I do hate ter interrupt yer ladies tea or whatever the fuck it is the two of you are doin’, but this one’s workin’, or at least she ought be, and if she wants to be keepin’ her job instead a’ sleeping in the gutter with alla the other trash, she’ll get on with ‘er evenin’ with someone who’s payin’ for the pleasure of ‘er company,” Noonan said in response to Eleanor’s query, and then he lifted his hand in the air and snapped his fingers at Max like he was calling a dog over. 

Eleanor bristled, she positively vibrated with rage, but she held herself in check – just barely – by reminding herself that she had no real leverage over Noonan.  Noonan generally tried not to cross her because his business depended on her business bringing hordes of pirates to the shores of Nassau, but Noonan was not dependant on her in the ways the boat captains were.  He did not need to keep her happy, he choose to because it made his life easier.  If she upset him too much, Eleanor knew that Noonan could and would take it out on Max since he couldn’t take it out on her, and she did not want that to happen. 

“I’m paying,” Eleanor pronounced before she could think better of it. 

“Paying fer what?” Noonan asked derisively. 

“The pleasure of her company,” Eleanor declared, digging into the wide belt secured around her waist and pulling out some bills that had been tucked between the belt and her shirt.  “Now if that’s all …” Eleanor said, trailing off as she arched her eyebrow at him. 

Noonan looked down at the bills in his hand, counted, looked back up and over at Eleanor. 

Eleanor held his eyes unwaveringly.  She had overpaid, by quite a lot if the prices she heard the pirates discussing were to be believed.  She’d paid him enough to secure Max’s presence for the rest of the night, and she dared him to disagree. 

“Enjoy yer evening Miss Guthrie,” Noonan said, tipping his head towards her before turning and walking away, his cheeks puffing in and out as he whistled to himself while he walked. 

“What an abominable little man,” Eleanor began, staring after Noonan resentfully. 

“Oui,” Max agreed softly, her voice far more subdued than Eleanor was used to hearing it.  “Come,” she continued a moment later, giving Eleanor’s hand a little squeeze before she let it fall from her own and started up the stairs. 


By the time Eleanor entered Max’s room and secured the door behind her, Max had made it to the door of her balcony and was standing in the frame, staring out into the dark. 

Eleanor approached her from behind and, after a moment of uncertainty once she reached Max, Eleanor wrapped her arms around Max’s waist and drew the smaller woman against her, dropping her head to rest on Max’s shoulder. 

“I could have him killed,” Eleanor breathed into Max’s neck.  “I know some pirates,” she continued playfully, and she felt Max’s body vibrate slightly in her arms as she released a puff of laughter, unable to completely resist Eleanor despite her darker mood. 

“Some other disgusting little troll would take his place before his body had cooled,” Max murmured a few seconds later.  “And that one might be smarter.” 

“You’re beginning to sound like me,” Eleanor breathed out. 

“I could never sound like you,” Max replied, moving out of the warm circle of Eleanor’s arms.  “The world does not fall to Max’s command,” she continued, walking back into the room, coming to a stop near the table that held her washing bowl. 

“I would,” Eleanor breathed out, turning around so that she was facing Max once again.  “What would you have me do?” 

“Nothing,” Max replied, her voice dropping slightly, becoming sultry with practiced ease as she lifted her hands to her shirt and began to pull it down over her arms.  “The client commands, the whore obeys,” she pronounced, lowering her shirt enough that her breasts came into view. 

Helplessly, Eleanor’s eyes dipped down to Max’s chest, and stayed there for a long moment, enthralled by the sight of Max’s full breasts and the dark nipples at their peak. The arousal that had been pounding through her veins on the boat came back to her in full force then, leaving her aching to touch Max’s skin again, to wrap her lips around those dark peaks until they hardened in her mouth.  But Max’s words had not fallen on deaf ears, and Eleanor clamped down on her desire and lifted her eyes back up to Max’s face, knowing that she had to address Max’s words. 

“Is that what I am?” Eleanor asked softly. 

“You paid for me,” Max replied flatly. 

“Only so that Noonan would leave us in peace,” Eleanor insisted, crossing the short distance between herself and Max.  “I did not mean to cause offense,” she continued, reaching out to take Max’s hands into her own.  “I paid him because I … I thought that you wanted to be alone with me, and I could think of no other way to make him take his leave of us.  If it was wrong of me to do so, I truly apologise,” Eleanor finished, lifting Max’s hand up to her lips to place a soft kiss on the back of it.  Her lips lingered for a second, but then she forced herself to release Max’s hand so that she could lift Max’s shirt back into place.  “Have I put you off me?” Eleanor asked, taking a step back once she had finished arranging Max’s shirt. 

“No,” Max breathed, her tone still more subdued than usual, though she took a step towards Eleanor, closing the distance the blonde had placed between them.  “I understand,” she whispered, placing her hand on Eleanor’s hip as she met the blonde’s eyes for the first time since they had ascended the stairs.  “I just wanted one night where no money exchanged hands,” she sighed, dropping her eyes again. 

“You know I regard you with infinite affection,” Eleanor began, her eyes searching Max’s face, willing it to lift up again so that Max could see the truth of her words in her eyes.  “If my … conversation with Mr. Noonan has cooled your ardour, we need not proceed any further tonight.” 

Max was silent though she remained close to Eleanor, her fingers unconsciously stroking the belt secured around Eleanor’s waist before she angled her head to the side to face the bedroom door. 

“You’ve already paid for my services,” Max breathed out. 

“No,” Eleanor objected firmly, though her voice remained soft.  “I paid for pleasure of your company, which I am currently pleased to be enjoying. You owe me nothing, and I would not wish to receive anything that you do not desire to give.  Should I go?” Eleanor asked when Max still did not look at her. 

“No,” Max said immediately.  “Stay,” she added, finally tilting her head up to meet Eleanor’s eyes.  “You are Max’s desire,” she whispered, pressing her lips softly against Eleanor’s chest. 

Eleanor breathed in deeply, her eyes momentarily closing in pleasure at the feel of Max’s gentle touch, and then she lifted her hands to Max’s face and dipped her head down, bringing their lips together once again. 

“We go,” Max murmured, reaching up to take hold of one of Eleanor’s hands. 

“Where?” Eleanor asked, watching Max with hooded eyes. 

“To bed,” Max replied, and Eleanor exhaled shakily and nodded her head before allowing Max to lead her over to the bed.


Max smiled contently as Eleanor placed lazy kisses over her torso, nuzzling into her skin like a sleepy cat.  She thought about Eleanor in the daylight, while she was on the dock overseeing shipments, or as she strutted through the brothel dictating terms to armed thugs. While out in the world and on display, Eleanor was an elemental force, she was a hurricane in human form and woe to any who landed in her path.  Away from the eyes and ears of others however, when hidden away in Eleanor’s study or sitting alone on the small beach at the edge of the Guthrie property, Eleanor was an almost entirely different animal.  

“What is it?” Eleanor asked tiredly, her eyebrows furrowing a little in consternation as she stared up at the brunette from her resting place on Max’s lap. 

“What is what?” Max asked bewilderedly. 

“That look on your face,” Eleanor said. 

“What look?” Max asked even as her lips curved up painting a wide, happy smile onto her face. 

“That look,” Eleanor pronounced pointing at Max’s face.  

“It is affection,” Max breathed out gently, her eyes shining with the tender feeling as gazed down at Eleanor. 

“It looked a bit like amusement,” Eleanor couldn’t help but note, and Max smiled and then began to laugh when Eleanor frowned at her second display of amusement in as many minutes. 

“Honestly, Maxine,” Eleanor began, her tone and expression extending Max’s laughter until the brunette’s sides actually started to ache a bit.  “What’s so funny?” Eleanor continued, ignoring Max’s continued laughing fit as best she could. 

“You are just more kitten than lioness right now,” Max murmured when she had regained control of herself. 

“Kittens still have teeth,” Eleanor remarked, before proving her point by angling her head to the side so that she could give a gentle nip to the soft flesh over Max’s hip. 

“But they do not hurt,” Max replied as she slid her hand towards Eleanor’s and laced their fingers together.  

“I would not want them to,” Eleanor breathed, squeezing Max’s hand.  “Besides which, I would rather lick than bite,” she continued wickedly as she gazed up at Max, her pink lips curving up into a naughty grin. 

“I noticed,” Max responded in the soft low tone that Eleanor had only heard fall from her lips that night as they lay naked together in bed. 

Eleanor’s eyelashes fluttered and she exhaled sharply as a wave of desire suddenly washed through her body, and after closing her eyes for a second to try and restore some of her higher order brain functions, she rolled into Max’s body and placed a series of soft, wet kisses on Max’s stomach, steadily working her way down where she placed a final kiss between Max’s legs. 

Max’s breathed in deep as Eleanor’s lips brushed over her still sensitive flesh, and her hips instinctively rolled up, seeking more touch, longer touches, firmer touches… 

“I could happily spend the rest of my life between your thighs,” Eleanor whispered, running her hands up Max’s thighs as she forward to press a kiss to Max’s hipbone. 

“Then who would run Nassau?” Max asked as Eleanor slid up her body and settled herself comfortably against Max’s side. 

“You joke,” Eleanor began. 

“I don’t,” Max interjected.  “Max has heard tales of Nassau before Mistress Guthrie took the throne.  It is better now.”  

Eleanor huffed her disagreement. 

“Pirates still run amok after drinking up too much liquor. Noonan is still a shit stain made flesh. Since I scrubbed him from my life Vane has been a sulky nightmare.  The Briti …”  

“Ssh,” Max breathed out, pressing her finger to Eleanor’s lips to stem the rush of words flowing from them. “Bed is no place for so much talk,” she continued, drawing her finger away from Eleanor’s lips. 

“Really?” Eleanor enquired, “Because I seem to recall you talking quite a lot earlier,” she continued, slipping her leg over Max’s and then sitting herself up so that she was left straddling Max’s waist.  “Oui,” Eleanor moaned, tilting her head back ecstatically as she gripped Max’s torso with her hands to keep herself study.  “Ou..fuck! Oui,” she continued, she lips curving up playfully as she dipped her head back down to face Max. “There,” Eleanor gasped in her best approximation of Max’s accent.  “Oh god, n'arrêtez pas,” she panted, bucking her hips against Max. 

Max reached out and gripped Eleanor’s hips, digging her fingers firmly into the soft flesh of her ass, and when Eleanor gasped that time, she wasn’t playing. 

“You are going to regret that,” Max announced staring unblinking into Eleanor’s eyes as she reached her hands further behind Eleanor and properly kneaded the cheeks of her ass. 

“I’m sorry to say, your plan's not working very well,” Eleanor sighed, her eyes closing and her head dipping down as Max’s touch made her body flush with heat. 

“No,” Max breathed out, “It’s working very well,” she assured before using the hold she had on Eleanor to flip them over.  “You will beg,” Max purred, stroking her thumb across Eleanor’s cheek softly before she lowered her hand to Eleanor’s breast and squeezed her nipple. 

“I won’t,” Eleanor gasped, even as her thighs parted to make room for Max between them, and a moan rose in her throat. 

Max smiled foxily in response to Eleanor’s assertion, and then she dipped her head down brought their lips together, confident in her ability to prove Eleanor wrong.



The End